


That Kind Of Girl

by Liviapenn



Category: Sky Captain & the World of Tomorrow (2004)
Genre: F/F, Female Relationships, Femslash, Flirting, Post-Movie, Yuletide 2006
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-23
Updated: 2006-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-14 09:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liviapenn/pseuds/Liviapenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Polly gets her sea legs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Kind Of Girl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shatterpath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/gifts).



> Thanks to Corinna for cheerleading and rapid beta.

After the other Manta-class outposts arrived, cleaning up the mess on Totenkopf's island was little more than a day's hard work. Dex and the other members of Totenkopf's old unit were able to guide the Manta crews through most of the worst of it. Listening to the reports that her fighter squadrons were sending back, Franky wished she could have gone down there and gotten her own hands dirty-- every hour that went by brought some new discovery that sounded like something out of one of Dex's pulp magazines.

But Franky knew she was needed on the bridge of Manta One, to co-ordinate the fleet of Manta outposts and the many groups of flyers heading back and forth from the island. It was something that had always set her apart from Joseph; though he was nominally the head of the Flying Legion, he'd always preferred the thrill of the fray to the quieter but no less urgent responsibilities of leadership.

It was several hours past the time when Franky usually would have gone off-shift when she reluctantly ceded command of the bridge to Captain Slater. She'd be no good to anyone if she drove herself to exhaustion, and so she made herself leave the bridge, only glancing over her shoulder once or twice as she made her way belowdecks to the officers' dining lounge. Hopefully there would still be some sandwiches and coffee, and then she could get a few hours' rest.

Pushing open the heavy bulkhead door, she paused, spotting the back of a familiar blond head. Polly Perkins was curled up in one of the luxurious armchairs next to the heating element set into the wall, her shoes on the floor and her feet tucked under a cushion. She was jotting down something in a blank notebook that looked to be Navy-issue, and she pulled it a little closer to herself, ducking her head as Franky's gaze passed over it. "Captain," she said warily. "Everything's under control, I assume?"

"Of course, Miss Perkins," Franky replied with a nod. Crossing to the icebox, she decided not to make an issue of the reporter's scribblings. After all, she could always have Perkins searched before she left Manta Station. "I hope you're finding the accomodations to your liking?" she continued, pulling a few wax-wrapped ham sandwiches from the tray inside the icebox.

"The sandwiches are pretty good," Polly said, glancing aside as Franky settled down in the chair across from hers. There was a plate of half-nibbled crusts on the small table front of her that attested to her statement. "I've had better coffee on Chinese smuggling ships, though."

Franky smiled, pulling the carafe over to her side of the table, then frowned. "What's this?"

She reached out with a gloved hand to turn Polly's face toward her, but the other woman jerked her head away. "It's nothing!"

Startled, Franky pulled her hand back, and lowered her gaze, pouring herself a cup of coffee to cover her embarrassment. "That's a nasty bruise," she said, speaking stiffly. "You ought to have it looked at. I could show you to the infirmary, if you'd like."

"I hope it turns _black_ ," Polly said darkly, bringing a hand up to poke gingerly at the colorful bruise on her jaw. "I hope Joe feels _terrible_ about it. I hope it eats him up inside."

" _Joseph_ hit you?" Franky glanced up from her coffee, then cocked her head suspiciously. "Why?"

"Oh, I like that!" Polly slapped her notebook down on the table with a bang. "What did _I_ do? I wanted to go with him. Save the world. Mister Flying Legion funnybook hero-- I wanted to _help!_ And he hit me! Like-- like--" For a moment, Polly looked like nothing so much as the lion Joseph had chosen as the mascot for his Flying Legion, her eyes flashing fiercely and her lips drawn back in a frustrated snarl. As quickly as it had appeared, the resemblance vanished, and Polly slumped back into her seat. "I helped," she said softly, but her tone was defiant. "I figured out how to find Rana-- there was this stick, you see, with markings, and-- Oh, never mind." She snatched her notebook back up off the table and opened it again, clearly ignoring Franky as she picked up her pen and began to make notes.

Franky took a bite of her sandwich and considered the woman in front of her. When she'd first seen Polly edging out of the cockpit of Joseph's Warhawk, all long legs and high heels, she'd thought her no more than one of Joseph's usual flings-- that kind of girl was usually a silly, delicate flower, all giggles and curls, swept off her feet by the Sky Captain's glory and drama. But she was beginning to see that there was more to Polly than that. Much more.

And she'd always had a bit of a soft spot for a woman with a straightforward manner.

"Men think they can handle it," she finally said, and Polly looked up, startled. Franky smiled crookedly. "Seeing their girl out there in the thick of it. They think they can take it, but they can't. The minute things start getting choppy they start treating you like you're made of porcelain. They worry. They get scared. And then they hate you for it."

Polly's lips parted slightly as she stared across at Franky, and then she looked down, a flush spreading across her cheeks. "Well, I guess you'd know." Closing her notebook again, she met Franky's gaze. "You never met a guy that didn't get scared off you because you're a tough girl?"

She was asking about Joseph, and being a damn sight more tactful than Franky would have been in her place. "Joseph shot down the Zero that did this," Franky said, raising a finger to indicate her eye. "After that things weren't the same. I think he wanted me to be indestructible." She smiled tightly. "I wasn't."

"You sure look it to me," Polly said, but then she reached across the space between them and squeezed Franky's hand. Surprised by the sudden gesture, Franky forced herself to sit still. "So that was in Nanjing, huh? Near the end?"

"Yes. Near the end," Franky confirmed. She picked up her sandwich again. "Is there anything else you'd like to know?"

Polly's gaze sharpened suddenly, that catlike twist returning to her lips. Suddenly the room seemed very still, silent but for the ever-present rumble of the engines and the hiss of the heating element set into the wall. "About you?" Polly said. "All kinds of things, Captain."

Franky paused mid-bite, then chewed and swallowed, barely tasting the ham and mustard. Polly opened her notebook again, smiling down at it, but only tapped her pen against the blank pages and didn't start to write again. Was Perkins _flirting_ with her? She hardly seemed that kind of girl. Still. Nothing ventured, nothing gained-- that had always been Franky's motto. "Well, you could come back to my quarters and go through my things," she offered daringly. "And we might get you some clean clothes afterward."

"Go through your--" Polly's head snapped up, and then her eyes narrowed. "Joe's been telling you _stories_ ," she said, but she was smiling, and there was something ever so slightly wicked in her eyes. "Well... I would appreciate some fresh clothes," Polly said, swinging her bare feet down from the armchair. She ran a hand through her tangled curls, laughing. "I know I must look like hell. And I'm sure I smell like a yak."

"I didn't notice," Franky said. Finishing her cup of coffee, she stood. "Shall we?"

"Lead on," Polly said brightly, and Franky stepped close, trapping her against the side of the armchair.

"What color _are_ your eyes?" she murmured, and Polly's eyes widened obligingly. "Green? Hazel?"

"Wow-- when you take the lead, you really take the lead, don't you?"

"Is that a problem?" Franky asked coolly. Polly smirked, then shook her head, and Franky reached out, resting her hand on Polly's waist. "Well. Perhaps I should investigate more closely."

"Perhaps you sh--" Polly broke off as Franky leaned in and kissed her.

It was hardly more than a friendly kiss-- Franky tried to be careful of the bruise on Polly's chin, tried to be gentle and undemanding-- but the soft sound, low in her throat, that Polly made as Franky kissed her was enough to make her go hot and cold all over. Like a schoolgirl watching her crush pass by in the halls. Franky made herself step back with an effort. They _were_ in the officers' dining lounge, after all. Lifting her hand, she fussed with her glove, still intensely aware of Polly's body, Polly's breath, the heat of the other woman's body so near her own.

Polly cleared her throat, then turned to gather up her pen and notebook. "Perhaps you _should_ show me your room, Captain."

"Call me Franky."

"Franky," Polly said softly, and Franky took her by the arm and practically pulled her a step or two towards the door. "Hey, wait a minute! My shoes!" Polly blurted, and twisted away to scoop up her silly impractical heels. Franky couldn't help a short laugh. With her shoes clutched to her chest, Polly looked even more like a schoolgirl, sneaking out of her room after hours in her bare feet so as not to wake the matron. Franky tried not to smile too widely, but it was too late for a poker face. Polly shook her head, leaning back against the armchair. "You're something when you smile," she said wistfully, lifting each foot in turn to slip her shoes back on.

"Leave those off," Franky told her.

Polly glanced up. "Why should I?"

Franky grinned. "You'll stall out," she said. "Most new recruits take weeks to develop their sea legs on Manta Station, and they aren't wearing heels."

"Oh, really?" Polly said, and crossed the lounge towards Franky without even a wobble. "Well, maybe they should be."

Franky stared after her as she stepped through the bulkhead and out into the hall, steady as anything. "Officers' quarters are which way?" Polly asked, swinging her finger around in a circle. "And do you have your own baths?"

"I suppose you'll find out," Franky said. She took Polly's arm, guiding her towards the stairwell at the end of the hallway.

Polly tilted her head back slightly, looking up into Franky's face. "There's a lot I want to find out, you know."

"You won't get scared off?" Franky asked. She'd meant to say it lightly, but somehow the question came out sounding quite serious. Somehow Polly seemed to sense that. She tucked her arm more firmly into the crook of Franky's elbow, squeezing for a moment before letting go.

"I don't get scared off," Polly said firmly. "I'm not that kind of girl."

"Yes," Franky said, "I'm beginning to see that."


End file.
